Monday, March 18, 2019

HOMELESSNESS IN A LAND OF PLENTY: Part 2.

 





Chain of Misfortune

HOMELESS IN A LAND OF PLENTY

By Jack Random



[The Department of Housing and Urban Development estimates that there were about 554,000 homeless people in the United States.  Just over 50% were single males.  About 25% were single females.  About 23% were families with children.  Almost 40% were individuals under the age of eighteen.  From October 2009 to September 2010 an estimated 1.6 million experienced homelessness at some point in time.] 



GARY


He drank a bit too much.  It was in his genes.  His father drank too much.  Sometimes it seems that whole generation drank too much.  They drank themselves to sleep, got up in the morning and went to work.  They were functional alcoholics.  It was a way of navigating the journey of life.  In what was supposed to be the good old days the good old boys wanted nothing more than to escape the daily drudgery. 
Gary learned early that he couldn’t drink like his father did.  He drank on weekends, he drank to celebrate and he drank to commiserate.  The first time he drank Scotch it was a bonding experience.  The taste was so repulsive it almost came up before it went down and that made his father laugh.  It took years to develop a taste for it and years to leave the taste behind.  He had too many sessions at the porcelain throne, too many nights with dry heaves and too many mornings hung over. 
So here he was again. 
He went to the bar not long after she left.  Who knows?  Maybe he thought he’d see her there.  He didn’t.  He drank.  After a few at the bar he went to a liquor store and bought a bottle.  He drank to get drunk.  How long had been since he’d done that?  Two years?  Three?  The more he drank the less he remembered. 
Louise let him down.  It was her fault.  It was always someone’s fault.  Now he sounded more like Louise or his mother.  There was always someone to blame.  Someone called and wanted to know if he’d come up with bail money.  Not a chance.  So Louise managed to get arrested in one day.  He didn’t want to hear it.  He hung up and hung up again when she called from jail. 
He called in sick and went back to the bar the next day.  After a second scotch he met a woman – the kind of woman that hangs out at a bar during working hours.  He didn’t care.  He wanted a shoulder and she had two.  They bought another bottle and she went home with him.  Three days later he realized she had moved in.  He hadn’t bothered to call in to work.  When he did he lost his job. 
Fuck it, he thought.  It wasn’t much of a job anyway. 
Her name was Alice.  She had a lot of problems – even more than he did.  In a way it gave him comfort.  She needed him more than he needed her.  It took a while for him to understand that she needed him as a means to get what she really needed – America’s latest addictive rage:  Fentanyl.  It was a long and heart-breaking story.  He was sure of it even though she didn’t have time to tell it and he didn’t have the inclination to hear it.  Everybody has a story.  Every story ends in tragedy.  Fuck it.  It doesn’t matter. 
They lived as they lived in squalor and chaos until the bills started coming and he realized he was out of money.  He had lost track of time.  How many days had gone by?  How many weeks?  In a moment of clarity he saw what he had become and the misery piled on like a mountain of stone. 
When she offered, he accepted.  One pill couldn’t hurt.  Could it?  No.  It helped.  It helped a lot.  The pain floated away like smoke in the wind.  All his worries became distant shadows.  He had no worries.  Another pill and he had no pain.  Another and all the jagged pieces fit together like God’s divine plan. 
Want became need and every particle of his being changed.  At long last he found his religion, his sainthood and his martyrdom.  He became the one true child of God.  A sensation of elation, lifting his spirit off the earth and rising to the stars, overwhelmed him.  Euphoria, wonder, glory and devotion:  They were all at his command. 
Someone shook him and called to him from another world.  He did not wish to leave his place of comfort and elation but the caller persisted.  It was a woman and she was vaguely familiar.  She cried and sniffed and wiped away tears. 
“Wake up, baby!”
It was Alice and something was happening.  He had neglected the simple necessities of this life for so long that it shocked him when he returned.  Alice was his angel of truth, his deliverance and protector.  She opened the doors to this experience and she demanded to be heard.  She owned him. 
“Baby, wake up!” 
“What is it?” he mumbled through the fog and mists of a million dreams and landscapes of fantastic origin.  Why had she taken him from his utopia? 
“Thank God,” she gasped.  She held his head and stroked his hair, painting his face with kisses of genuine affection.  “I thought I lost you!” 
She had a needle in her hand.  It was Narcan – the antidote to an overdose.  He didn’t know she had a dose.  The stuff was expensive – too expensive when you needed every cent to pay for Fentanyl.  Maybe she cared about him after all.  Maybe she was the only one who cared. 
“Where’d you get the Narcan?” he mumbled. 
“At the clinic.  They know me down there.” 
“How long was I out?” 
“I don’t know.  I wasn’t here.” 
“Where were you?” 
“Out.  Who cares?  I came home and there you were.  I saved your life.” 
It was true.  He knew it was true but paranoia came with territory.  Could he trust her?  No.  He couldn’t trust anyone.  He almost died and still the only thing he could think about was securing his supply. 
If he were being honest he would have to admit he’d been in this place before.  The drug was different and he was older now but he had been in a very similar place.  If he were honest he would admit he had an addictive personality.  Addicts saw it in him in a flash.  Alice saw it.  He’d been addicted to cocaine, methamphetamine, crack and heroin.  He wrestled with all the old demons and emerged from an ocean of deep dark hell.  If he were being honest this was just one more relapse in the series that was his adult life.  But he was not being honest.  He was lying to himself and everyone else.  He lied to Louise but he always thought she knew.  He’d been clean for a couple years before he met her.  A few beers after dinner.  Straight and narrow.  But there was a reason he lost all contact with his family.  There was a reason all his friends were recent. 
“Baby, we’re almost out,” said Alice. 
She didn’t have to say what they were almost out of though they were almost out of everything – food, drink, cleaning products, toilet paper, toothpaste, deodorant and anything else you can think of.  The last time he looked there were a few beers in the refrigerator and nothing else. 
“Almost?” 
“Yeah, babe.” 
“How much more do we have?” 
She pulled out a baggie revealing five lonely pills.  The way they were going it wasn’t enough to last the night.  He knew Alice was probably holding out on him but not by a lot.  She probably had four or five more.  He’d deal with it when the time came. 
“Do we have any money?” 
He knew the answer but asked anyway.  Together they might have enough to get a meal at MacDonald’s but not enough for what they needed. 
“We could sell some things,” she suggested. 
“Like what?”
“The TV, stereo, silverware, whatever…” 
“I got to go back to work,” he said glumly.  “Shit, we won’t make much selling all this crap.” 
She knew he was right.  She knew a guy who fenced stolen goods from junkies and other lowlifes.  He wouldn’t give much for the everyday bullshit.  It was just an opening to get the dialogue going. 
“We could sell your truck.” 
He hesitated.  She could feel him tense up.  Selling his truck was a major turn.  It was only three years old and in good shape.  He could get five to seven grand beyond what he still owed.  But he needed that truck to get to work.  If he sold it he was admitting that he had no intention of getting another job and playing it straight.  If he sold the truck there was no turning back. 
“Forget it,” said Alice.  She had to stay ahead of him.  It had to seem like it was his idea.  She’d been through this before and she’d learned a few things.  She wanted to get all she could out of this.  It was not that she didn’t like him or that she thought he deserved it.  It was just business.  She was not getting any younger.  There’s a limit as to how long a girl can get away with this shit. 
“Have you got any other ideas?” he said.  He knew she did.  He knew the kind of woman she was.  If he didn’t know in the beginning, he knew by now.  She was all about the fix. 
“I know a guy,” she said.  “He could use your truck.” 
He climbed out of the sofa and found his way to the window.  It was already sundown.  He had completely lost any sense of time. 
“Call him.  See what he’s got.” 
The truth would not have surprised him.  She had already called him.  Alice was a woman who thought ahead.  So she went through the motions and came back with a gig.  That’s what they called it – like they were some kind of traveling band. 
“Yeah,” said Alice.  She handed him a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it.  “He says you should show up here at three A.M.  He’ll give you a thousand bucks to drive a shipment across town.  Two thousand if you drive it to Vegas.” 
“Two thousand?”
“Yeah.” 
“And that’s all I have to do?” 
“That’s it.” 
“You trust this guy?”
“I do.” 
He let it settle.  Of course there were some details missing.  It was too good.  But when it came down to it, what choice did he have? 
“What’s the merch?” he wondered. 
“Golf clubs.  Yeah.  It turns out people pay a thousand dollars for one golf club.  There’s a warehouse that just got a shipment.  JD knows where it is.  His guys crash the warehouse, load up the stuff and you drive off.  Pretty simple.” 
Unable to fully grasp how low and how fast he had fallen, he let it settle.  He was not only considering a job as a driver for a stolen goods operation, he knew he would accept it.  He had no choice.  That’s the thing about addiction.  Need trumps want every time.  You want to do the right the thing but you need that pill.  You have no choice.  Alice knew that better than he did. 
He showed up at the appointed time and place, high and ready for action.  JD met him in the parking lot of a closed department store and told him to wait in the corner outside the light of the street.  Gary could tell straightaway JD and his crew of two men were cranksters by the way their eyes darted back and forth. 
“Give me your phone,” said JD.  He plugged in his number.  “You call me if something happens.  Got it?” 
“Got it.” 
“If no one shows in thirty minutes, take off,” JD said. 
“Right,” replied Gary with a glance at his phone. 
He waited exactly twenty-four minutes before they pulled up and loaded his truck with four long cardboard boxes.  It looked like there was room for maybe fifty clubs – a haul worth fifty grand.  They covered the load with a plastic tarp and tied it down good while JD took care of business.  He handed Gary five crisp one hundred dollar bills and a slip of paper with an address in Vegas. 
“What’s this?” said Gary. 
“Gas money,” said JD.  “You want me to come with?” 
“No, I’m good.” 
“Alright.  You deliver the goods, pick up the cash and call me when you get back.  We’ll settle up then.” 
“Right.” 
He gave him a look meant to chill him to the bone.  It worked. 
“Don’t even think about fucking me over.  I know where you live,” he smiled, revealing the dental condition of a man long lost on meth. 
“Don’t worry.” 
He pulled out and headed for the freeway.  Three blocks later he thought he noticed someone following him.  Two blocks down he turned right and was greeted by the twirling red lights of two black-and-whites blocking his way.  He slowed to a stop as two cars pulled in behind him.  He was busted dead to rights. 

After two weeks in jail Alice sold his truck to make bail.  He was off the drugs but he had no money, no ride and no way to pay the rent.  He struck a deal with the D.A. to turn on JD and his buddies in exchange for time served.  So now he had to worry about JD’s revenge as soon as he managed to get out of jail.
In a matter of weeks everything turned to shit.  His landlord served the eviction notice.  Alice was determined to stay but Gary didn’t have the energy to fight back.  He had no more illusions about her caring for him any more than he cared for her.  Their relationship was all about the drugs.  He packed some belongings and walked down to the bridge where the homeless people had formed a makeshift camp. 


Copyright Jack Random 2019


No comments:

Post a Comment